Without you
by Light-Blue Flower
Summary: "I love you. I'll always love you. Forever and ever, I'll remember you." He whispered with a smile. "Je t'aimerai toujours. I'll always love you too, Iggy. Thank you…for everything." He looked at England one last time, before closing his eyes forever, England felt France's hand turn cold and fell dully into his hand./ Warning: Rated T for death of characters.


**Warning: This fan fiction contains a gay relationship and character's death. Thank you for clicking on this story.**

"No," he whispered under his breath. Looking down at his lover, lying there covered in blood, scars, and tattered clothing, he couldn't help but fall to his knees, feeling useless. They have been fighting against the enemy for a long time. It was a matter of time that one of them would fall. England just didn't know the fall would be that hard. And right in front of his eyes, too.

"France! Francis!" England cried, not knowing what to do. He just needed him to be alive. The Frenchman opens his eyes, revealing a pair of beautiful blue eyes. France smiled at the sight of England.

"Angleterre…" he whispered, and then started to cough. Blood came out of his mouth, running down the side of his mouth.

"Shh…don't talk, you git," England whispered softly, trying his best to figure out what to do next. There was blood coming out of France's stomach-where the bullet has been shot. Quickly taking off his coat, he placed it over France's wound, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding. As he did so, he tried to restrain tears. France was not in the best condition ever. Cover in blood, it was hard to tell that he was the same over-exaggerative person. England felt a hand place against his cheek, wiping away the tears that have leaked.

"Why are you crying?" France managed to whisper.

"I…I'm not crying." Of all the time he could behave that way, he decided to do so now.

"Still stubborn as usual." England looked away, not able to bear how dead France sounded.

"I told you not to talk. It will help you recover quickly."

"No."

"What?" England was taken by surprised at France's response. Never did he heard Francis say no.

"It's too late now." He said simply, more like he was saying it to himself.

"D-Don't say such things! You're going to get better!"

"No. Isn't it obvious? My time here is up."

"No!" England cried, now letting lose all his tears. For some reason, it started to rain gently above them. "You're not going to die, alright?!"

"There is nothing to be done, Arthur. You can't do anything to save me."

"No. I'm not going to letting you bloody die on me! There is no way that's going to happen! You're going to live, and when this whole nightmare is over, we will go home-"

"There is no more 'we', _Mon Cher_. Only you are going home…"

"I'm not letting that happen! We are both going! No one is going to stay behind!"

"England-"

"You promised me…" England said, looking down. "You promised me that you'd stay by my side! That you'd never leave me! You promise to be there for the rest of our lives."

"…I'm sorry. I lied to you, haven't I? I'm sorry for lying and putting you through this, Iggy," France said, stroking England's cheek. "But please. Don't cry because of me…But, instead, you could smile for me. So that you, and your beautiful smile, are the last things I see of this world." England stared at him for a moment. Then, he used one arm to pull France to lies on his arm, and his other hand to intertwine with France's hand.

"England."

"…Yes, love?"

"I'm glad I met you, millenniums back. I'm glad that, even though you hated me when we were young, you still talked to me and accepted me as your acquaintance and rival. I'm glad we grew to be friiends, even though you were obviously jealous of me, and hated how I wore all those frilly clothes and flowers. But, mostly, I'm glad we became so much more than 'just' friends." England tried to keep that small smile in place, but he can feel his eyes water.

"I'm grateful that I was your first time for many things. Yet, you weren't literally for me. But, I still consider you my first, because you are the first to make me happy…and beg for it at times too. The warmth that only you can make me feel whenever we are close together…something I never experienced before. I'm glad to be still by your side."

"You are so beautiful, you know? Even though others say you look funny, with your scrawny hair and thick eyebrows, I always find that they were your best assets, in a way. You such beautiful big, emerald eyes and soft, pink lips. I always knew you were one of a kind…" France paused a moment. He inhaled deeply, looking a bit in pain.

"…_Chérie_?"

"Yes?" Arthur now had tears running down his cheeks all over again, and his voice cracked.

"Promise me something."

"What is it, Darling?"

"Promise me you will move on."

"Francis, I don't think-"

"Please? For me? I don't want you to stay miserable because of me."

"…I'll try…"

"Good."

"But…no one but you deserves me…" Francis smiled at England's words.

"Is it alright…if you can give me…one last kiss?" England nodded, and leaned down to gently meet France's lips. It was the last time they would do that. His lips didn't taste like the gourmet food he would eat, or the red wine he would drink. He tasted like blood. But, England didn't care. He wanted to deepen the kiss, ignoring the taste. He felt France's fingers run through his hair, feeling it for the last time. England, in turn, twirled strands of his lover's wavy blonde hair lovingly. When they broke, England can already tell that Francis was on the edge of death.

"Francis."

"Y-Yes?" He said those words with difficulty.

"I love you. I'll always love you. Forever and ever, I'll remember you." He whispered with a smile.

"_Je t'aimerai toujours. _I'll always love you too, Iggy. Thank you…for everything."

He looked at England one last time, before closing his eyes forever, England felt France's hand turn cold and fell dully into his hand. He felt his heart rip apart into two when he heard his lover say the nickname that he will never hear come out of his mouth.

The rain poured down on both England and the beautiful corpse that lay in his arms. Hot tears fell, never stopping. England whispered sweet nothings to himself, repeating that this cannot be true and that France is not dead.

"Come back to me, France!" he cried, letting his tears splatter on his pants. His mind was mentally crushed, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Please, come back! Don't leave me like this! Please…you have to! What else is there to do in this bloody world without you?! This can't be happening…"

After a long while, England still sat there in the same spot. His tears have dried up, and no matter how much he thinks about it, he knew France was never coming back to him. Staring at the still corpse, he stroked the strands of golden locks off his face. His hand was still intertwined with France's hand, resting on the still chest.

There was a hole in England's heart. A big hole, he knew, that would never be filled, no matter how far time has passed.

Has it really been just six months since his death? It felt like more than three years for England. Soon after, they were both found by a few other nations. They knew that it was the end of the French nation, and now there is something to be done about the land. It was split up amongst the neighbouring countries.

They held a funeral, of course. England didn't want to come. He couldn't bear the pain of seeing France being buried. He had to leave mid-way. He needed to be alone. And he remained alone for the next few months. He became more distant from the others. When attending one of the world meetings, he would just sit there and do nothing. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't eat, and he'd do nothing but sit in a chair, and stare blankly out the window.

England couldn't go on that way. So, instead, he started to drink his sorrows away. He'd complain about how lonely it was in bed, how boring it was in the meetings, and how much he could just see France once more. Being isolated and getting terribly drunk, none of the other nations could not help them, no matter how much they tried. He would lock himself in the house, not speaking to anyone. One night, he had just finished downing six glasses of whatever alcohol he could fine lying around, he had enough.

"I wonder where you went," he spoke gently in his bedroom, lying on the bed he once shared with the other. "Is it beautiful, there? Where have you gone? Are there no war, no blood and no cries of sadness where you went? I wonder, if it is happy there. If it's for your best."

"It's not fair, though. You left me alone. You told me to move on. That's not possible at all. I need you. I need to be with you. But how do I do that…" Sitting up drunkenly, he stepped slowly up to his drawer. Looking down, he opened the last one; the one he never actually opened. Inside, he saw a metal piece glinting. Picking it up, he realised it was the gun he used to use for battle. He found his chance.

"I'm not going to wait. The chance to be with you is right here. Maybe, this would be my only chance to stay with you. I have no regrets, but leaving Alfred, Matthew, and my close family behind. They are, however, old enough, so I guess it's alright. They know I love them. They just don't know that our last time meeting up would be the last time they'd see me alive."

"Is it truly beautiful where you are?" England asked once again, preparing that gun and raising it to his temple, smiling sadly. "I guess there is only one way to find out. Thank you, Fate, for giving me a great family. Thank you for having me meet Francis in the first place. Thank you, Earth, for giving me a place to spend with the ones I love. I thank you in advance, Death, for hopefully you'll let me rest in peace with the one I love."

Is there truly a place called Heaven and Hell? Or, is it that the spirit goes to a different dimension? What if humans don't have a spirit at all? That when you die, you become nothing afterwards? You go nowhere, and you cease to exist as a ghost or spirit? That you would never end up with the ones that you want to be with, because both are not spirits?

It felt like a life time since England felt like he was in the dark. Or was he truly there? Maybe, it must have been some illusion of some kind. He could feel himself floating and moving. Was he floating? Is he moving? He is staring at nothing. Are his eyes even open, or closed? Everything did not seem to make sense at the moment.

There was a sudden spark of light in front of him. The light soon wrapped around England, almost causing him to go blind. What happened next didn't make much sense to England. He was lying down, his eyes closed, under a tree. Opening both his eyes suddenly, he sat up, looking around confused.

"What the bloody hell?" he said sub-consciously. Looking around, he realised that he was under a big tree that was on a familiar hill. He could also see, at a distance, a familiar pond. Getting up, he started to walk up to the pond. He looked at his reflection off the water, and was surprised that he was wearing the same clothes and black cloth that he wore when he was very young; but, it was bigger, of course, to fit him.

"Where am I?" He asked. It looked too much like the human world. It also reminded him of a place he shared with someone else. A spark of hope lit up in him, and he started to walk towards the big tree he laid under. This couldn't be the same place. This couldn't be the same place where he always met him, even though he didn't want to, at first. He quietly looked around the tree, to the other side. There he found a pleasant surprise.

"France," he whispered loudly. A figure was sitting in front of the tree trunk turned around, blue eyes wide in surprise. The figure was wearing a long, light blue dress, with gold embroidery on the end of the sleeves and square collar, and they were wearing a flower crown.

"E-England?" said the familiar voice of France. England smiled in relief and ran up to meet his lover, by hugging him.

"Y-You're here! You're actually here!" England cried happily, tears of joy coming out of his eyes.

"O-Of course I'd be here! I'm dead, of course. How can you be here, though? Unless of course your…" France grabbed both of England's shoulders. "Don't tell me…"

"…Does it count if I were the one to kill myself?" France looked like he was going to scold England, before he cut him off with a kiss. England took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and France pushed back as well. Once they broke, England chuckled.

"Yes. You are really France," he said, leaning his head on France's chest happily. France stood there frozen for a while, before sighing and sitting down, dragging England down with him.

"You really are a fool, _Angleterre_," he whispered, intertwining his fingers with England's. "You did that just so you can be with me. I told you to move on. You should have tried to find someone new, instead of doing that to yourself right away…"

"If I'm a fool, what does it make you? At least I'm not the one wearing a girly dress."

"H-Hey! This is not a girly dress! It is actually worn by guys…I think…Anyway; I don't know how to get other pieces of clothing here…"

"It kind of creeps me out, in a way."

"Humph. Says the one in the little boy's cape."

"Besides, France, you told me to move on. And I did. I moved on to the next world. And anyway, as I said back then: No one else deserves me but you." France smiled, and stroked England's hair gently.

"I'm glad you really believe that."

"I do." England replied, smiling sweetly at France. "At least we don't have to worry about anything. We'll be together, forever. Just like you promised. Just like we promised…" France leaned down to give a kiss on England's forehead.

"There is no point being mad at you. I'm glad at least that we found each other." They sat there, in perfect, blissful silence.

"I'm glad I'm with you," England whispered, closing his eyes gently, and listened to the heart beat of the other. "I love you."

"I love you too, Iggy."

**Thank you for reading! Please review.**


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